


Behind Closed Doors

by deanatemytailor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunker, Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Mundane Story, One Shot, Sam Finds Out, Sam's POV, Secret Relationship, Spn!Verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 08:24:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5913280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanatemytailor/pseuds/deanatemytailor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is fixing the wall outside Dean's room where Dean has been hidden all day. In fact, all week. Sam has no idea what he's been up to, and he doesn't know that he'll soon enough find out...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behind Closed Doors

**Author's Note:**

> Just a one shot I thought about. What if Sam had seen Dean walk out of his room (like normal), but did not expect Cas to just minutes later?

Sam set down the heavy cans of Behr paint. He’d carried two, and there were two more he’d eventually have to go get after these ran out. He let out a deep breath and pressed his hands to his hips, staring at the gaping crack in the wall that began an inch from the ceiling and ran all the way down to his own knees. Shit, that reminded him, he’d forgotten the drywall compound in the Impala. He groaned.

            About a week ago, he and Dean were sitting across from each other at one of their tables, sipping beer, when the floor started vibrating. They’d both reached for their weapons, so used to everything that was terrible being a monster. It wasn’t a minute in before they realized they were in the middle of an earthquake. It had grown bigger in that minute and books were falling off shelves and chairs were tipping. Dean heard things fall in the refrigerator and the plate he’d left on the counter crashed to the floor.

            The quake only lasted about four or five minutes, but it seemed to go on forever. Dean and Sam had scoured the bunker, looking for any serious damage.

            Luckily, or not so luckily in Dean’s case, the fridge took the brunt of it.

            The only other issue was the walls in the hallway. Much of the bunker was built with cement or bricks and what have you, but the walls in the hallway were basically drywall and paint- and it was a shitty job at that.

            The biggest crack in the wall was right by Dean’s bedroom, and thus, that was where Sammy was now.

            He thought about the quake as he padded his way towards the garage. It had only taken them about two days to actually clean up the different rooms and stuff, but the cracks in the wall would take longer. Sam had already attended to the ones near his room while Dean got the long hallway from Sam’s room to his. It was quite a lengthy hallway. Sam remembered waking up hearing Dean having a nightmare, and the hallway seemed endless. In fact, they each had their own bathrooms near their rooms because of how far away from each other they were. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Dean in the hallway during the morning. It seemed that he would at least cross paths with his brother once in the past three weeks they’d been holed up here.

            Sam shook his head, bringing himself out of his reverie. He opened the Impala’s squeaky door and grabbed the drywall compound. He made sure the door was closed before heading back inside. The garage smelled like rubber and it stung Sam’s nose. Dean would like it, but it made Sam nauseous.

            In fact, he wondered where the hell Dean was. Sam had been out all day cleaning up cracks and searching for hunts. He’d only seen Dean once this morning, and he’d made himself two omelets. Sam had made fun of him for it, but Dean had rolled his eyes and left his brother’s presence.

            Whatever, if Dean didn’t want to help, that was his issue. Sam would use it against him in the future. Besides, it somehow calmed him down. It was something to keep his mind off the monsters of the world. He reveled in holding a paintbrush rather than a knife. The monotony of it put him at ease.

            Sam snatched a banana as he went through the kitchen, and then he was making his way back towards the gaping crack in the wall.

            It had taken Dean a while to pick out the paint when they were at Home Depot. He’d wanted to change the color of the walls. Apparently ‘puke green’ was what was on now, and Dean wasn’t too keen on it.

            Sam had told him he could choose a color and they could change it. Dean rummaged through reds and greys and yellows and had scrunched up his nose at each color. Finally, he searched the blues and found one he liked. ‘Cerulean Blue’.

            Sam had raised his eyebrows at Dean, the color all too familiar. Dean’s pride turned to annoyance and he’d shoved the color wheel at Sam before mumbling, “Just get the fucking puke green.”

            He’d felt bad after that. Of course Sam only meant to joke- hell, Dean could have really just enjoyed the color, but Dean took it way too seriously and in the end, they’d bought puke green.

            Sam leaned against the wall across from the crack. He stared at it, wondering where he would start filling it in. He peeled his banana and popped a piece into his mouth. He supposed he would start from the top. That way he could start off comfortable and end in a sitting position with a hunched back. Not like it really mattered.

            He finished his banana and threw the peel on the ground, mentally reminding himself to pick it up and throw it away as soon as he was finished.

            He went to work, stuffing the wall with the sticky substance. He scraped it down smooth so it would match the rest of the wall’s texture.

            About halfway down the wall, he realized he’d need more ‘drywall crème’, as he now called it.

            He dabbed the last of it in place, scraping it down, and then wiped his sticky hands against his work jeans. He sent Dean a text, telling him he was going to go pick up some more of the stuff. Dean sent back, ‘Alraioight’. Sam wondered if he was drunk somewhere in the bunker, but he didn’t have time to figure it out.

            He picked up his banana peel and threw it out before pulling on his boots and taking the Impala’s car keys from the counter. He entered the garage, breathing only when he needed to so the gross scent didn’t fill his nostrils.

            He sped out of the garage, which almost reminded him of a parking garage, and entered the chilly February air. He pulled the Impala onto the gravel road and saw the familiar Lincoln Continental parked near the entrance of the bunker. It was muddy and there was a new dent in the front of it, but it was Castiel’s same old car.

            Sam squinted as he passed slowly, discovering the car to be empty. He’d ask Dean if Cas had showed up sometime today.

            The drive to Home Depot was only fifteen minutes. He knew exactly where to find the stuff and he picked up a couple of extra, just in case. He flirted with the woman in front of him at the check out and then paid for his items and left. It was a quick drive in. He wondered if they needed anything back at the bunker.

            He decided he’d pick up a six-pack, just in case.

            Sam pulled the Impala into the garage once more and sprinted towards the door with five tubs of drywall crème bouncing around in his arms. He took a deep breath when he entered the bunker.

            There was still no sign or peep of Dean. There were only oh so many places he could go. He could be in the shooting room or the library. Maybe in one of the artifacts rooms. Hell, Sam supposed he could be in his own room. The walls were soundproof and thick, so it’s not like he would know.

            Sam pulled out his phone as he set the drywall crème on the ground where the unopened paint cans sat. He was just about to text Dean when the door to his room opened.

            Dean looked up at Sam, his green eyes wide. His hair stuck out on end and his t-shirt was all ruffled up. He only wore boxers under that. Sam squinted his eyebrows.

            “Did you just wake up?”

            Dean cleared his throat. “Uh…yeah. Took a…took a nap.”

            Sam pursed out his bottom lip and huffed a breath. “Hey, have you seen Cas? I saw his car parked outside. I didn’t know he was here.”

            Dean picked a stray white string off of his black t-shirt. He sniffed and shrugged. “I dunno. Probably in his room watching Netflix or something.”

            Sam watched as his brother shifted from one foot to the other. He forced a yawn.

            “I’m gonna go take a shower.”

            Sam nodded slowly. “Alright. I’m just fixing the wall.”

            Dean brought his eyes to the patchwork Sam had already finished. “Lookin’ good, Sammy. I’m gonna owe you big time, huh?”

            Sam nodded. “Oh yeah.”

            Dean snorted and padded to the bathroom.

            Sam bent down and opened up a drywall crème. He got back to work, stuffing the crème into the wall and making it even with the original wall. Pretty soon he’d be onto the painting.

            Twenty minutes later, Dean exited the shower with a towel around his waist. It was one of Dean’s longer showers, but Sam didn’t necessarily want to ask him what the hell took him so long. He continued stuffing, wondering if he should go get his iPod soon.

            Dean stopped near Sam and watched his brother work. Sam looked up at him.

            “What’s up?”

            Dean chewed his cheek. “Nothing. Gonna get dressed.”

            Sam widened his eyes at his brother and waited for Dean to continue. When he didn’t, and made no move to leave, Sam nodded. “Okay…”

            “Alright.” Dean opened his door a tiny ways and slipped into it.

            Sam shook his head. His brother was acting ten ways from normal, though it was still his brother. Sam could tell. Whatever. Maybe solitude was starting to grow on his brother’s nerves. If that were the case, Dean wouldn’t be afraid to voice it in the near future.

            Sam scraped at the new section his was working on. He had a couple more inches to go at the bottom, and then he was ready for painting. He enjoyed that way more. Then he could go and get his iPod.

            Sam worked his way down, inch by inch, humming the last song he’d heard on the radio under his breath. His stomach was starting to growl and the thought of a nice batch of spaghetti controlled his thoughts.

            At about the last inch, and an hour since he’d seen his brother, Dean slunk out of his room. He wore a pair of worn out jeans and a flannel shirt, but his feet were bare. He smiled at Sam.

            “How’s it goin’, Sammy?” Dean asked, especially chipper.

            “It’s going,” Sam replied, grinning. “What are you doing?”

            Dean patted his belly. “Gonna go make some grub.”

            “Please tell me you were thinking of spaghetti,” Sam said, almost whining.

            Dean chuckled. “Actually, that sounds pretty good. I was just gonna make a quick sandwich and come back here, but you’ve changed my mind.”

            “Thank God,” Sam said. “Tell me when it’s ready.”

            Dean was about to turn when Sam said, “Hey, speaking of.”

            Dean stopped.

            “What even are you doing in your room? You’ve been in there all day.”

            Dean’s mood didn’t extinguish, per se, but his shoulders drooped.

            “Well, like I said,” Dean started, “I slept for a while. I watched some Netflix.”

            Sam smirked. “You took up my advice didn’t you? _Jessica Jones_ is super addicting, huh?”

            Dean’s face contorted to a flashy grin. “Oh yeah, it’s fucking great. I’m hooked.”

            Sam nodded. “Knew you would be. Anyway, food! Now!”

            “Time to feed the beast,” Dean muttered and Sam flipped him off as he wandered down the hallway.

            Sam smiled to himself as he finished up the last of the wall, scraping at the little bits of bumps. Finally, his first step was done. Now he’d have to wait for the wall to dry. The top was practically dry now, but he’d rather have it all be dry before he went to town painting it. That’ll take him a while, too. He’d have to do multiple layers, and he’d been praying to his absent God that the color will match up. He wanted this little job to be over with.

            Sam closed the lid over the drywall cream and set it on the floor. He decided he’d go and get his iPod so he’d be ready to go after dinner.

            He wondered if he should go and offer Cas some food. Of course, he was still getting accustomed to his grace again, but it wouldn’t hurt to see if he wanted some. Maybe it only tasted half like molecules. Sam wondered what the hell that would taste like in the first place, and his nose quirked up at the thought.

            He stalked down to his room and picked up his iPod and headphones and shut the door. He decided he would ask Cas, just in case.

            He continued down the hall. Cas’s room was farthest back. Dean wanted it to be there so if Cas decided to go sneaking out, Sam would be able to hear him as he walked by. Then, if Sam missed him, Dean would get the chance to keep an ear open.

            It hadn’t happened…yet.

            Sam stopped and Cas’s door. He waited a moment and then knocked. No one answered so he knocked again, just in case the angel was sleeping.

            “Hey Cas, Dean’s making some food. Did you want some?” The last of Sam’s echo faded and no answer came from the other side.

            Sam huffed and knocked again. “Cas, I’m coming in.”

            He rattled the old doorknob and opened the door. The room was completely dark and the bed was made- it hadn’t been slept in for a while. Okay, that was weird.

            Sam shut the door. Then where the hell could Cas be?

            He stalked down the hallway towards Dean’s room again. He’d drop off his iPod and check for Cas in the kitchen and living room- perhaps he was with Dean? If he wasn’t, Sam and Dean would have to put out a hunter’s APB for him. The car wasn’t really a clue.

            Sam stopped at his work site and set his iPod down on the paint. He took another look at his work and stepped up to it. He ran a hand down it gently, just to see if it was drying and to make an estimate as to how long the wet stuff would take.

            Dean’s doorknob rattled and Sam turned to it, half expecting Dean to walk out.

            What he did not expect was Castiel.

            What he really did not expect was Castiel wearing Dean’s favorite Led Zeppelin t-shirt.

            What he ABSOLUTELY did not expect was to see Castiel, wearing Dean’s favorite Led Zeppelin t-shirt, and sporting a couple of hickey’s lining his neck and collar bone where the t-shirt neckline drooped a little.

            Sam blinked once. Twice. Cas stared back at him, his cerulean blue eyes wide and his hair disheveled on top of his head.

            Sam fumbled for words. He didn’t really know where to begin or what to even really ask. It was evident in that split second he’d seen Cas.

            Cas blushed. Could an angel really blush? Apparently, because his face was turning bright red.

            “I um…” Cas’s voice came out deeper than usual in his frantic state. “Dean was supposed to get sandwiches…it’s been quite some time.” Cas stared down at the floor as Sam cleared his throat.

            “He’s making spaghetti,” Sam offered, his voice fluctuating more so than usual.

            Cas finally dared to stare at Sam. “I suppose…I’ve been caught.”

            Sam chuckled. That was an understatement.

            “I suppose you have,” Sam replied, loosening up a bit. “Look, whatever you and Dean are…I don’t mind.”

            Cas blushed again, only not so much as before. “I knew you wouldn’t.” He smiled. “Dean, however, might need some reassurance.”

            Cas looked towards the kitchen and then sighed. He stepped out of Dean’s room. He was only wearing boxers. Sam pursed his lips. He figured continuing on with questions would be better than standing awkwardly in front of Castiel, who’d been in Dean’s room, with Dean, all day.

            “So uh…how long has this been going on?” Sam asked. “Just curious.”

            Cas looked up in thought. “Well, I’ve been here for a week…but it’s been going on longer.”

            Sam gaped. Seriously? That long and Cas hadn’t even said a hello? Dean hadn’t told him Cas was here? And why hadn’t he noticed the Continental when they went shopping the other day?

            Cas sighed. “I can see you have a lot of questions. I’ve been here that long. Dean didn’t want you to find out yet, so I’ve been hiding in his room. He’s been bringing me food. I don’t know why he didn’t inform you I was here. But I respected his wishes.”

            Dean’s gonna owe him big time, and not just for the damned paint job outside of HIS room.

            “What about your car? I only noticed it today.”

            Cas smiled. “When you and Dean went shopping, I headed out a bit earlier to check up on a potential hunt.”

            Sam raised his eyebrows. Dean sending Cas to do his dirty work? Well, he supposed it had happened before.

            “So you and Dean are…”

            Cas shrugged. “He hasn’t said. We’ve been on two dates this past month and it has only been this week that I’ve spent with him.”

            Now it was Sam’s turn to blush. He obviously knew what had been going on behind that door while he worked. He tried to clear it from his mind.

            “How did you, you know, get together?” Sam was generally curious. Dean was never one for getting together with someone unless it was for a couple of hours in the night and then he’d never have to see them again. Also, he was terrible at words and asking someone out, hell, asking CAS out would have been a big deal.

            Cas smiled, as if remembering back to the exact moment.

            “It was after a hunt one night. I think he said that you two were hunting a werewolf.”

            He paused, waiting for Sam to remember. And he did, most vividly. The hunt had gone awry. Neither of them was prepared for what hit them and it had scratched Sam pretty well- got deep. While he was thrashing Sam around in his jaws, Dean had aimed at the beast but missed it. It angered the werewolf and it left Sam on the ground and bolted towards Dean, pinning him to the ground and biting his arm and slashing his stomach.

            Sam had stood up, wearily, and Dean kicked the gun to him. He’d taken it and shot the werewolf square in the heart. It died on top of Dean and it took everything Sam had to get it off of his brother. Much to Sam’s dismay, he’d found out Dean had passed out from blood loss and his flesh was sticking out from claw marks, red blood oozing from the gash.

            So, yeah, Sam remembered it perfectly. Dean had almost died before he’d gotten to the hospital. There was so much blood.

            “Yeah, what happened?” Sam inquired.

            Cas leaned against the doorframe, apparently comfortable with Sam now.

            “He called me from the hospital. He told me he didn’t have a lot of time because you would come back to the room soon. Basically, he told me that he’d had the final near death experience and he wasn’t going to waste anymore time. He sounded gruff on the phone, but I listened intently. He told me to meet him at Grandma’s Diner a couple of days later.”

            Sam remembered Dean bolting out the door a couple of days later, informing Sam he was going shopping. Sam was pissed because he’d left before Sam could tell him he needed to rest his wounds.

            “So he met you at the diner?”

            “He met me at the diner,” Cas confirmed, happiness in his tone. “He told me he couldn’t tell me over the phone like some twenty first century robot. I had absolutely no idea what he was going to say, but he finally said he liked me. He went straight to the point,” Cas said, chuckling, remembering the moment.

            “He didn’t freak out?” Sam questioned.

            Cas shook his head. “No. I asked him the same thing. He said he was too old to pretend. So I told him I like him too…and more details that aren’t that important. He told me it was our first date.” Cas blushed.

            Sam smiled. That would be a Dean move; informing his partner they were on a date before they even knew it.

            “After that, we’ve just been hanging out here and there and since you two were home this week, he invited me to stay…but in his room.”

            Sam rolled his eyes. “Okay Cas, too much information.”

            Cas blushed and then leaned forward, getting too close into Sam’s personal space. Now he knew how Dean used to feel…or maybe he didn’t.

            “Sam, Dean told me he loved me.” Cas’s voice was almost at a whisper.

            Sam’s eyes widened. Because that was big news. Sam, not ever in his life, _ever_ heard Dean say those words. Maybe about his mom. But not to Sam (because Sam already knew he did), not to his father, and certainly not to any woman Dean had actually spent more than one night with. Dean probably didn’t even know how to say the word itself.

            But he’d said them to Cas, so there it was. Sam knew Dean liked Cas. He’d known for a while. But this…this was way more than he’d thought. Hell, he didn’t even think Dean would have ever even asked Cas out. This was the fucking mother load of words, and Dean had said it.

            “And do you love him?” Sam finally asked, a little breathlessly because he was shocked and bursting with joy on the inside.

            Cas nodded. “Absolutely. I told him as much. I’m just…Sam, I’ve never been happier in my entire existence.”

            Sam didn’t have anything to say to that. Especially because Cas was beaming- hell, glowing even. His blue eyes were bright and full of love and he was covered with bruises of love and even though it grossed Sam out, he was full of joy, too.

            And because Sam didn’t have anything to say to that, he pulled Cas in for an embrace. Castiel hugged him back, accustomed to the action now.

            “Congratulations, Cas,” Sam said, meaning every word of it.

            “Thank you, Sam.”

            Dean’s voice interrupted their moment. It grew louder and Dean grew closer, and Cas and Sam were stuck in their spot, unsure of how to proceed. “Sam! Dinner’s ready! I’ll go find Cas, and we can-.”

            Dean stopped, jaw agape. He was obviously shocked to see Sam standing in front of Cas, who was still in his apparel and covered in hickey’s that were standing out against his fair skin. He knew instantly what had transpired and he feared to continue.

            Sam knew all of this, so he smirked and said, “Dean, thanks for introducing me to your boyfriend. I like him a lot. He’s a keeper.” And because Dean was so shocked and was staring at Sam with a mixture of happiness that he was accepting and nervous because he’d been hiding, Sam continued.

“Cas, if you hurt Dean in any way, I’ll have to bring out the big guns.”

With that, he placed his hands on Dean and Cas’s shoulders.

“Well, I’m happy that you two are happy, but I am also not happy because I’m starving. Meet you guys out there?”

He turned to Dean, eyebrows raised. Dean relaxed under his touch and smiled at Sam.

Quietly, ever so quietly, he whispered, “Thank you, Sammy.”

Sam winked at him and made his way down the hall.

He thought about it. He should have figured this entire thing out much faster. He was, after all, a fake detective. Everything made sense. He just never thought Dean would go through with anything of that sort, so he never had to come to that decision, not even as a last resort.

But with Dean and Cas together now, Sam was content. He knew they gave each other everything the other had ever wanted, and they loved each other more than anything else. Except maybe Dean and pie. That was an affair that would continue through his and Cas’s relationship.

Sam smirked at the spaghetti as he dished it up. Then he turned towards the door where Cas and Dean had stopped to kiss one another, just before heading into the kitchen with Sam. It was so natural; Sam wasn't even surprised to see them that close. But he DEFINITELY did not want to hear any of it if it went any further.

So thank God for the soundproof walls from the outside. And thank God that crack hadn’t bled through to the other side.

Because who knew what the hell was going on in there while Sammy was putting the drywall crème between them.

He smirked. And then he frowned.

That motherfucker was not watching _Jessica Jones._


End file.
